Bella

by Michael Conley

  “Thought I was gonna have to have her shave me clean until a couple of young dandies swaggered in. They eyed me right away and kept up staring like they meant to run me off. I didn’t pay ‘em no mind and kept getting this and that trimmed. I did notice Win’s hands started shaking a bit. That was her name by the way. Win.

  “Their next play was to surround me and tell me I ought to leave. I opted for a bath instead, can’t say that made ‘em happy. Thought for a minute the big one might step up, but he simmered down once I was lookin’ down on him. Wasn’t as big as he thought he was when I was standin’.” He stopped, and a slick smile crossed his face.

  “I set a quarter on the counter and walked to the back of the place and behind the curtain and called out for some hot water. I made a show of dropping my gun belt and britches. Well, I made it sound like I did anyway, then I waited. I figured if they was gonna make a go of it that would have been the time. They didn’t, so I inched up to the curtain and peeked out. That’s when I knew what was going on. Four of them was talking about who was gonna come throw me out. The leader of their bunch was leaning in close, talking to Win. But gentle like.

  “He had her hand in his and she was meeting his eyes. I listened for a bit; she was trying to tell him just to wait but he wasn’t havin’ it. If his boys had any stones they’d already have tried to get me out the hard way. But they was waffling even as he tried to tell them to come get me. Win put her hand on her hip and walked out saying she was going to get hot water and they were going to wait. She had a tell though. She let her fingers slide across his just a bit too long. Looked at him a little too soft while her other brushed her belly.

  “That’s when I knew what the whole of the story was. So, I pulled the curtain back and walked between the toughs. Told ‘em I decided I smelled good enough. I walked out and found Win at the fire and told her I had changed my mind. I asked her if they was married and she got mighty nervous. Tried to clam up but I calmed her down. She says they ain’t wed, but they are lovers. Says Chinese ain’t allowed to marry any but Chinese. That true?”

  Ying didn’t answer.

  “Ying that girl’s with child and scared. I got to thinkin’ those boys with the neck scars might be the problem. I asked her and she clammed up again, but it was clear enough when she glanced across the street. Told her I’d take care of it, but she almost passed out with fear. Said they couldn’t know. So we worked it out. I told her they wouldn’t know and that if she had trouble she could find me here. Then I made a show of being angry about my bath and stormed off. Boys followed me all the way back, probably outside now. Gotta admit I’m tempted to go out and stomp their asses.

  “I also gotta admit I wasn’t sure I should tell you. I only just decided I would a minute ago.

  “I don’t know what kinda rules you all got here Ying, but I ain’t gonna be happy any harm comes to that girl or her child.”

  His eyes locked on Old Ying’s. The room seemed to vibrate with a tension that I could barely understand.

  Ying nodded and said, “You have my word, Mr. Wasco, it is for that reason I sent you. I will tell you if she comes to call or is in need of help.”

  Wasco stared at her a moment longer, nodded, and made a sound like rocks grinding.

  “Okay,” he said. “Cost me a haircut and trim and a bath I ain’t even get. Hope it comes to something good.”

  “I believe it will, Mr. Wasco, and you look much better without the rat’s nest of a beard. Probably should have stayed for the bath though,” Ying said.

  Wasco scowled. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and I saw Li’s body relax.

  “I have one more service I could use your talents for Mr. Wasco. Christopher and I were working on a tincture for a customer and it turns out I am out of the Neguri root I need. She knows what it looks like and where to get it, but I am afraid it is not safe to send a young girl, even one such as her, out of the gates alone. Would you be willing to escort her out, Mr. Wasco? It is only about half a day’s travel to the Edge where the plant grows. There can be dangers, even this close to the city. I would send one of the young men, but none of them knows this particular plant.”

  Wasco looked at me.

  I shrugged and said, “Ain’t no worse than here.”

  “What about your ma and pa, they okay with you running out in the wild?” he asked.

  “Pa's dead s' far as I know. Ma's doing a shift down in the mine. Won't be out ‘til the end of the week,” I said.

  “Your ma is a miner?” he asked.

  I looked at him like he was daft. It was becoming a habit with him.

  “She’s a whore, chucklehead. She works the mines. They don't let women be miners. She usually works six days at a time down there,” I said.

  Old Ying looked sad and I felt her hand scrunch down the curly ball of my hair and pat my head. I didn’t know why Ying always got that look. It was just what it was to me. Ma seemed happy enough with her lot and had been able to feed us.

  Wasco and Old Ying exchanged a look.

  “Okay, yeah, I'll take her out. She's a tough kid, she'll be fine,” Wasco said.

  “You can leave tomorrow. I'll have Li set up a pallet for you to sleep on if you like. Christopher, will you be staying here tonight or going home?”

  I looked at Wasco. “A tough kid you owe a nickel to,” I reminded him. “I'll stay here if that's okay?”

  CHAPTER THREE – JACOB

  I watched the sun rise through the constant fog that covered the rest of the Chinese Quarter. I didn't know why I woke up so early. I usually slept as late as I could, but there I was, wide awake, looking out the small window. I picked up the nickel Wasco had given me and bounced it across my knuckles.

  I used to take Ying’s medicines to old man Cranston who had shown me how to do that nickel trick before he died. I’d been the one that found him. Took some medicine over from Old Ying like I always did and found him dead in his chair. I don’t remember being sad, which is odd because he was always very nice. Used to give me candy.

  I decided I might as well get up and see if there is anything to eat before everyone else got up, so I put the nickel into my vest pocket and climbed off the pallet Ying had made for me.

  I padded through the shop, looking at some of the new items, finding comfort in those that had been there since the first time I set foot in here with Will. I ran my hand across the case that contained a familiar book. The Red Book of Hergest, Ying had called it. She always liked to tell me stories from it when I had been little. Truth be told I wished she would have kept on, but I would never have admitted to such a thing. I walked through the curtain to the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as I could. I need not have bothered.

  Wasco and Old Ying were already at the table, the Chinese fire rifle leaning against the trapper’s leg. He held a wooden mug of what I assumed was coffee by the smell while Old Ying sipped her tea from a ceramic teacup. There was a plate with a few pieces of biscuit, a crock of honey, and butter on the table.

  “Mornin’ sunshine,” Wasco said.

  “Why are you up so damn early?” I asked him then nodded towards the gun. “You buy that already?”

  “We need to get moving girl. Don't wanna be out all night.” He nodded at the rifle. “Ying wants me take it out with us.”

  I sat down. “Nothing but damn crumbs left,” I complained.

  “Shoulda got up on time,” Wasco said.

  “You ain't say a time! ‘Sides, how the hell does a body know to just get up if nobody wakes ‘em up?”

  He grinned.

  “Pigheaded mrphmphh!” the words dissolved into the biscuit crumbs and honey I stuffed into my mouth.

  Ying didn't keep horses, so we set out on foot toward the gate. Wasco wanted to go past Keaton Industries on the way, so we took the long way ‘round to the gate. Keaton Industries sat on the west side of Edge City, right up to and even over the cliff, with rails and buildings built right into the side of the wall. The winds blew
from the west, so all the steam was blown away from it and right into the folks in the Ends. A few years earlier they had raised a tall picket fence around the place with little guardhouses.

  It was something between a fort, a plantation, and a mining outfit. Keaton himself lived there in a house overlooking the expansive operation. Mine workers and whores went in from the End side where all the barracks and warehouses were. A large rift separated the work area from the main house. It was like a giant axe had cleaved into the cliff face and left a gash that would not heal. A narrow bridge spanned its width.

  Wasco didn't say anything. Just stood there looking for a few minutes, turned, and walked off.

  We walked a few blocks in silence, which wasn’t unusual from what I had learned of the large man. When he spoke all of a sudden, I about jumped out of my skin.

  “When I lived here this was just a small town. Wasn’t no Heaven or factories. Just this part of town you call the Ends and only ‘bout half of that. Miners called it the End of the World. Weren’t no steam either.”

  “You used to live here? And it weren’t no city? How old are you?” I asked.

  “Old,” he said. “But not that old. This just kind of popped up. Musta been fast.”

  “How could you have been livin’ without seeing a city being built?”

  “Was up in the mountains,” he answered.

  And that was that. I tried to ask more questions, but he just walked and grunted at them once in a while.

  The gate was just north of Keaton’s place. There were guards, but they didn't pay no mind. Hadn't been much fighting with Natives in a while; the Red Legs were the most aggressive of them and had not been seen in a few years so the guards mostly slept.

  We walked out the gate and headed back southwest along the city wall. Most of the traffic was coming in. Farmers and ranchers with their wares for sale or to buy supplies. Some people were heading out, but by the time we turned to the west we were alone.

  After a couple of hours with no talk I got bored and took out my spitshot. I dropped a Blackchip through the hole on one end of my shot. As we walked I looked for something to shoot. A few feet off the trail ahead a long-eared hare lifted its head and sniffed. I stopped and hockered up a good ball of spit. That drew Wasco's attention and he stopped and watched me. I placed the end of the root into my mouth and let fly with a ball of spit that hit the Blackchip. The root collapsed where the spit hit it and the chip shot out in a puff of steam. The hare hopped, flipped, and landed on its side twitching and making mewling noises. I just missed the head and it got the neck. I ran over, told it I was sorry, pulled my little knife, and killed it quickly. I tried to wipe my tears before Wasco could see, but I could tell he noticed.

  “I’m the best shot in town. I hardly ever miss. I hate it when they suffer is all!” I said glaring at him with tears glistening in my eyes.

  “Ain't nothin’ wrong with that girl, way it ought to be. You sent it along as fast as you could. We can eat it.”

  I looked at him sideways. Can eat it? What hell did he think I killed it for? I tied it to my belt.

  “What's that thing you shot it with?”

  “Oh, it's a spitshot. Usually I can knock one in the head with it, so it doesn't suffer,” I said.

  “What the hell is a spitshot? Lemme see that?”

  He put his hand out and I handed it to him.

  “You ain’t never seen one? It's a spitshot, it shoots Blackchips.” I pulled out a handful of small black stones from my pocket.

  “What’s a Blackchip?” he asked.

  “Old chips that are too used up to power things anymore. People just toss ‘em out, but they usually got a little steam left in ‘em. If you get ‘em wet, they make a little burst of steam. Well, you gotta break ‘em first usually,” I said.

  “How come it don't burn yer mouth with steam?”

  “Drinker root.” I held my shot up. “Don't tell me you ain't never seen a Drinker tree?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I seen ‘em.”

  “Well, if you cut one of the roots off, a good straight one, and ya spit into it, it does the same thing it does with the tree. It closes. Go ‘head. Spit in it.”

  He did. The root collapsed and continued to constrict the entire length until pumping the spittle out the other end.

  “See?” I asked. “That way the steam can't go backwards and get into your mouth. Well, mostly. When they get too old they quit workin’. Wyatt got a good ole blister when his quit workin’.”

  “Huh.”

  He looked it over and handed it back. I stuck in another Blackchip in case I saw another hare.

  The ground was sloping down slightly, and we could feel the edge of the cliff. You couldn’t see the cliff edge because of all the growth, but you just knew it was there. Maybe it was the lack of trees in the distance or something in the air changed, but you could just tell when you’re nearing a cliff like that. The hill was covered in all kinds of plants. I spotted some Neguri plants right away, so I figured we would find a good haul.

  We found a good spot to set up and Wasco started a fire and cleaned the rabbit while I went to gather some of the root. After an hour or so I had my bag full and my belly was grumbling. Wasco had some rations he dumped into a pot with the rabbit and I scrounged some wild carrots. It made for a decent stew that we sopped up with some of the biscuits Wasco had not bothered to tell me were left.

  “So, what you got against Keaton?” I asked.

  He looked at me but didn't say anything.

  “You got a murder'n look when you saw that loudmouth’s badge and again today at the mines,” I said.

  “One of them boys took my Bella while they were out rustling horses. I aim to get her back.”

  I waited to see if he was going to continue, but he didn't say anything more and the look on his face didn’t invite more questions. We finished the stew in silence then spent the next few hours finding and digging out more Neguri roots. They were spread apart, but there were a lot of them, so by the time we finished, the day was mostly gone. It would be long past dark by the time we got back.

  The sun was setting before we were halfway back, and the wind had picked up. The temperature dropped, and I was shivering. I hadn’t thought about how cold it was outside of the gates or I would have asked Ying for a cloak or something. He didn’t say anything, but Wasco altered our path a bit. It kept us in the trees which blocked some of the wind and would be a shorter, if more difficult, walk, but the extra exertion also helped keep me warm.

  Another hour or so had passed when Wasco stopped suddenly, and I bumped into him because I had my head down from the chilly wind.

  “Come on! I'm cold!” I said.

  Wasco held up a hand. I assumed that meant to be quiet and I was too cold to argue so I shut up.

  “Heard something. Gonna go check it out,” he said.

  He walked into the trees; well, it was more like he became part of the trees. He barely made a sound, even crossing dried leaves. Every time he stepped his foot was carefully placed. Sometimes he would set it down, stop, lift it, and set it somewhere else, feeling something I couldn't hear, I suppose.

  I didn't know why I didn’t try to follow him. He had a way of making me act out of sorts. He hadn't told me not to follow him, and any other time in my life I would have. Maybe it was because he didn’t tell me not to. Instead I just stood and watched him disappear into a copse of trees while I shivered alone in the darkening night. A long time passed before he reappeared, as if he had always been there waving me toward him, putting a finger to his lips for quiet. When I reached him he bent down, talking quietly.

  “Somethin’s happening on the other side of these trees in a gully down there. Not sure what yet, but it ain't good. Somebody was down there fightin’ like Kilkenny cats. It’s gone quiet now, but I need to get closer to see what it was.”

  He locked his eyes on mine but didn't say anything else. A shiver ran down me, you know, from the cold.

  �
�I ain't gonna just sit out here freez'n!” I told him through chattering teeth.

  His eyes wrinkled, and he flashed a rare grin.

  “I figured.” he said, “Come on, try to move slow. If somethin’ starts to give underfoot, stop and move your foot aside slowly. Ain't no need to hurry, whatever happened is done.”

  He turned and started through the trees again with me following. I tried to emulate his movements the best I could. If I was too loud or if I succeeded, he gave no indication at all. I stepped in his foot falls when I could. I think I did a passable job. We came out of the trees and Wasco hunkered down as he climbed a small ridge and knelt at the top. I moved as slow as I could, just like he had, and followed him up. I think I saw a slight nod of approval, but it might have just been what I wanted to see.

  “Okay, ain't no cover ‘twixt us and them now. You gonna wait here if I tell ya to?” he asked.

  I couldn’t get up the nerve to say no, so I just shook my head.

  “I didn’t think ya would and I ain’t sure that’d be all that smart anyway. So, I want you to stay right behind me the whole way, understand? No matter what. Even if someone shoots at us, you stay directly behind me, got it? Ain't nothin’ here you need to see or do,” he said.

  Shoots at us? Who was going to be shooting at us? What the hell was I doing? But there was no time to think or ask because Wasco had turned and was heading over the ridge, trying to find whatever shadows he could. The moon was new and the sun had set, so at least it was mostly dark.

  Nobody shot at us and we made our way down a rocky slope. I smelled the smoky remains of a fire, and something else, something tangy on the air. Metallic tasting. We stopped, and Wasco turned and told me to wait while he looked around. We were next to a covered wagon with a broken wheel; I didn’t see any horses and didn’t hear anything. I had been so intent on staying right behind him I hadn’t even noticed the wagon until we were against it.